


it can’t get bad if i get to say i’m yours

by lafgl



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, This is pure fluff, im going to 2012 hell and I’m dragging you with me, literally just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 21:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21063152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafgl/pseuds/lafgl
Summary: prompt: Them exploring each others' bodies, but not in a sexual way. Finding their different birthmarks, looking over each others' scars and sharing the stories behind them, running their hands over one another and just appreciating the feeling of the other person next to them.





	it can’t get bad if i get to say i’m yours

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written these two since like 2013 but the musical has fully made me Percabeth trash again so.......
> 
> we going ✈️ to trash land babeys im yeeting myself off this earthly coil

_You are more_  
_Than anything I could deserve_  
_For better or worse_  
_But it can't get bad if I get to say I'm yours_

_some kind of love // the greeting committee_

* * *

“So stupid...” Percy delicately traces a finger over the small, jagged scar on her arm. Time had worked its magic, and it was no longer raised or red, but a pale, almost white streak against her tanned skin.

“You do realize you’re talking to the daughter of the _goddess of wisdom_, right, Seaweed Brain?”

He manages a small chuckle, despite his sincerity. “I was terrified.”

He means it. It’s not the closest he’s come to losing her but it’s the moment that sticks out the most. They had grown so close over those first few years at Camp Half-Blood, both blissfully unaware that anything had changed between them, despite every other camper’s insistence that they had seen it coming. And after the battle — when she finally kissed him — it started to weigh on him. Because yes, Annabeth really put her life in danger — without a second thought — for him. And despite the wonders of modern (and godly) medicine, the blade still left a scar — a small one, albeit, but something tangible — a real, physical reminder of what she’d done.

“I know.” It’s simple, but it’s enough. She nestles her head in the crook of Percy’s neck, yawning.

Her gaze falls to a raised scar hidden just under the neckline of his t-shirt, “How’d you get this?”

“What?”

She sits up, cocking her head as she runs her fingertip along the length of the scar.

Percy doesn’t flinch, “I have a scar there? I don’t know.”

Annabeth sighs, bringing her hand up to his chin, “Percy...” she pauses, smirking, “you’re the stupid one.”

“Wise Girl,” he turns to look straight into her eyes, “you’re telling me you know the story behind every scar you have?”

“Maybe not, but I bet I know more than you.”

Of course she would turn it into a competition. _One he was sure to lose_.

“So what about this one?” He points to the small discolored patch on her shoulder.

“That’s a _birthmark_, Percy.” She chuckles, “My turn.” Her fingers ghost over the thin line on the outside of his leg, just below the hem of his shorts.

“Um. I dunno. Minotaur?” He scoffs, “This game sucks. You win.”

Annabeth leans in close, their lips almost touching, “I love it when you say that.” With a quick peck, she settles back down, stretching sleepily before turning away from him and snuggling up against him.

His arm reflexively wraps around her, and soon he’s running his palm down her thigh and over her knee, feeling the remnants of the scratches it bears. It was only now that their relationship had started to get more serious that he noticed them — and the small things like it — the same way he now noticed the lone curl that always seemed to escape from her ponytail, or the patterns she would trace on his back when he fell asleep next to her.

Expecting his question, she was ready with an answer, turning her head to respond; ”My first capture the flag. I tripped on a branch,” she laughs, “I wanted to be a hero, I got a little ahead of myself.” She’s embarrassed to admit something so out of character. “Don’t laugh,” she quickly warns him.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“_No_?”

“I think it’s cute.”

Annabeth sighs, too tired for a rebuttal, and instead, simply curls up closer to him.

He relaxes, letting his arm wrap around the both of them, and pulling her closer. His hands absentmindedly run though her hair, despite his brain immediately regretting it not even a second later.

“You’re gonna mess it up,” she protests, sleepily reaching to smack his hand away before pulling it back down to her waist. It could be a few minutes, or only a few seconds later — Percy can’t tell, nor does he care — that she falls asleep.

After the (literal) hell they’d been though, Percy was sure they were owed some peace.


End file.
